


soldiers of fortune

by orphan_account



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>Easy</i>," she huffed, blinking snow out of her eyelashes. Maybe she should have paid more attention to the innkeeper’s warnings about the weather. Living with Elsa, she thought, had made her a little too blasé about the cold.</p><p>(WIP)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> giftfic for hansideburns and rebafuckingmcclane

It had started out innocently enough: she had wanted a nice gift to send home to Elsa. A magical flower seemed to fit the bill. 

"Go get her a Moonflower, Anna," Anna said to herself. "It’s easy, Anna, just climb the giant mountain and pick the pretty flower and come back down. Ugh."

She pulled her cloak tighter around her body, grateful that she was at least wearing good sturdy boots that kept the worst of the snow out. Her teeth chattered, and she tugged her hat down.

 _This was so much easier with Kristoff_ , she thought, only a little despondently.

" _Easy_ ," she huffed, blinking snow out of her eyelashes. Maybe she should have paid more attention to the innkeeper’s warnings about the weather. Living with Elsa, she thought, had made her a little too blasé about the cold.

This wasn’t fun and games. She had seen a cabin, on her way up the mountain, and if she wasn’t mistaken it was somewhere around here. The treeline looked right. There was a spindly little copse of pines, already bending under the snow, and the lopsided fir, and somewhere close by there should be-

"Hah!" She had never been happier to see a creepy, dilapidated, collapsing hut in her life. The windows were boarded up, and the chimney had been decapitated at some point, and the roof was tilting at an angle that defied the laws of nature, but it would keep her out of the storm. She didn’t care if it was packed with hibernating bears: she was going in.

The door gave way easily at her touch, flooding the cabin with light. She just had time to take in the incongruous flicker of flames in a hearth when a figure looked up from the fire-

 _No_. No way. No, this was _not_ happening. She pulled the door shut and walked away. 

Bears would have been better. 

She walked down to the edge of the treeline, bracing herself against the frigid winds that howled off of the slopes, and considered the relative merits of bears. Bears, for example, were warm and fuzzy. And they were straightforward, you had to give them that. They ignored you or they killed you. The cabin door creaked open and footsteps crunched on the snow behind her.

A bear wouldn’t pretend to love you and then try to murder your entire family. No, a bear would just get right down to it. That was a commendable quality.

"Princess Anna?" Hans said. His footsteps stopped at her shoulder, and she could hear him shifting his weight.

Den of bears, she thought, wryly. Well, she had asked for it.

"Prince Hans," she said, turning with as much dignity as she could muster.

He was wrapped up from head to toe, face covered by a scarf, but the eyes were unmistakable, green and breathtaking and guileless. It wasn’t _fair_.

"Or is it just Hans?" she asked, stomping past him through the rising snowdrifts. "Did they take away the ‘Prince’ part?"

He snorted with derision, muffled behind his scarf, and she heard him following her through the snow. She considered letting the cabin door slam in his pretty, evil face, but he shoved past her and into the cabin before she could decide how petty she was feeling. The door snapped shut behind him and the wind outside abruptly dropped from a howling gale to a dull roar. She felt warmer already.

They stood on opposite sides of the tiny cabin, eyeing each other suspiciously.

"Thank you for letting me in," Anna said, finally. She pulled her pack off of her back and slung her rope around the back of a three-legged chair. Dust rose in plumes through the cold air.

Hans pulled his scarf off and shook snow out of his hair.

"I couldn’t let you freeze to death _again_ ," he said. She suspected he was being sarcastic.

"You could have," she said, not quite repressing a shudder. Her knife was still in her boot. And her pick was somewhere in her pack. It was a comforting thought.

"What would the point be?" Hans asked, his voice dripping with disdain. He dropped his coat on the floor and sank into an elegant slouch. No fine uniforms this time, she noticed. Just rough wool and homespun, and what was possibly an entire sheep draped around his shoulders.

Anna followed his example, reluctantly. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and she couldn't resist sighing as its heat reached her. She unlaced her boots with numb fingers and tugged them off to let them dry. Her socks, soaked through, went beside them.

"Shouldn't you be in jail?" she asked, looking at him sidewise. He was working on his own boots. Hans cast his eyes heavenward and pulled a sleeve down to display a knot of gnarled flesh ringing his wrist. 

"I was," he said, holding his arm up for her inspection. "They clapped me in irons and let me rot for a year. _Then_ they stripped me of my commission and threw me out to make my own way in the world." 

Hans' lips curled in a smile, and he propped one black boot against the wall.

"You are in the company of a hired mercenary," he said, turning a limpid gaze on her, "and I’m looking for work. What are _you_ doing here?"

"I wanted to see the world," Anna said.

"And I suppose you didn't get enough snow at home?" he asked. "Is that why you’re stuck here with me?"

"I didn't know it was going to _storm_ ," Anna said, a little petulantly. "Besides, that’s when it’s the best time to find-"

Hans gave her a sharp look.

"You’re looking for it, too," Anna said. Hans raised his eyebrows and gave her a remarkably innocent look.

"I’m looking for work and a warm bed," he said.

"Halfway up a mountain?" Anna shot back. "You’re looking for a Moonflower, too."

"No. But maybe I can manage a warm bed," he said, pulling his other boot off. He wiggled socked toes in front of the fire.

"A warm- _oh_!" Anna grabbed the nearest thing to hand, which happened to be a damp boot, and hurled it at his head.

He ducked it, and chuckled. Something clattered behind him.

"Don’t worry, Princess," Hans said. "Your virtue is safe with me." He stretched out on his stomach, head pillowed on his coat. His legs brushed her bare feet, and she jerked away.

"Just- just shut up," Anna said. She could feel the blood rising in her face.

"There’s wood by the fireplace," Hans said. "And you can take the bed. It probably doesn't have bedbugs."

Anna sniffed, threw what looked suspiciously like a chair leg onto the fire, and stepped over Hans to climb onto the bed.

Han’s voice floated up from the floor.

"If you want any company tonight-"

"Hans!" She delivered a well-placed kick to his prone form, and watched him curl in on himself with satisfaction.

"Good night," she said. He groaned softly, long legs drawn up to his chest.

Anna gave him her sweetest smile and threw her cloak onto the bed.

 

Sleep came slowly.

Lumpy, rotten, and _sharp_ were all words that should never be associated with beds, Anna thought, as she settled in for the night. Hay scratched and poked her legs through her trousers, and the lumps in the mattress were perfectly aligned to keep her awake all night.

There was also the fact that she was trapped in a cabin in a storm with the man who had tried to murder her.

There was definitely that.

She dozed uneasily all night, drifting in and out of sleep while the wind howled around them and the fire burned down to embers. Hans never stirred from his place on the floor. The house creaked around them and the wind battered the trees, raining branches down on the roof. Eventually, despite the noise, exhaustion overcame caution and Anna fell asleep.

When she woke it was suddenly, to the sound of perfect silence. The storm had stopped, but what had woken her was the rasp of metal on metal and the rustle of someone moving softly in the dark- she sat bolt upright, hands reaching for her knife, which was across the room, damn it-

Behind Hans, who was kneeling at the hearth with a flint and a worn striker, trying to start the fire up again.

She flopped back onto the damp mattress with a sigh that was half a laugh, remembering the last time she had seen Hans beside a fireplace. At least now he was trying to warm them up, even if it was only to save his own sorry hide. 

"I can't believe I'm saying this," she said to the ceiling. "But if you're looking for a Moonflower, and _I'm_ looking for a Moonflower, and you really aren't going to kill me-" Hans made an irritated sound at that, although it was possibly directed at the damp fireplace- "maybe we could team up?" 

Hans tapped the striker against the stone of the floor, considering. After a moment he stood, pocketing the flint and striker, and reached for his boots.

"We'd better get moving, then," he said. He knelt down to put his boots on, and tossed Anna's dagger and boots onto the bed. 

"Come on, Princess. Consider me hired."


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, no," Hans said, when they reached the spring where the Moonflowers grew. They had been tramping through the snow all morning, after a hasty breakfast of bread and apples, and Anna’s map had led them straight up the mountain. He tipped his head back, surveying the sheer wall of rock that rose up above him, crusted with ice and pocked here and there with small ledges where snow gathered. There was a cave halfway up the wall, from which streamed a small, iced-over waterfall.

The spring was somewhere at the back of the cave. At the top of the cliff. Which they were going to have to climb. He blew on his chilly fingers and waited for Anna to assess the situation.

"Oh," she said, when she caught up with him. She seemed to slump a little.

"You can’t possibly want a flower this badly," Hans said.

"It doesn’t look that high," Anna said.

"Fifteen feet," Hans said, "Of icy rock. I'm not climbing it."

"But we came all this way," Anna said. She dropped her pack on the ground and gave him a beeseching look.

"We can't just turn around and go back _now_ ," she said. "Not when we're so close. I mean, it's right up there!"

"You go on ahead," he said. "I’ll keep watch."

"Fine," Anna said. He couldn't resist smiling at her attitude. There was the fearless princess he had once known. Anna glared at him, and then started tying the climbing rope around her slim waist.

"Wait-" he said, stepping forward. She had somehow managed to make a grief knot, and he refused to carry her down the mountain when she fell off of the cliff and died. "If you tie it like that it won’t hold you." His gloved hands were brisk and efficient as he undid her work. He couldn’t feel his fingers in the cold, but years at sea meant that he could tie a figure-eight knot almost blindfolded. Salt water numbed just as well as snow. He tugged it tight around her waist, and stepped back.

She pulled a grappling hook out of her pack and held it out to him.

She had a grappling hook in her bag. Of course she did. He wondered what else she had packed.

"Can you?" Anna asked, gesturing at the hook with the other end of her rope.

He hefted the hook in one hand, surprised at its weight, and gave Anna a considering look. She hadn't complained once, in all the time they had been walking, about carrying her pack. He secured the rope to the grappling hook, gave it a sharp tug to test it, and stepped back and hurled it into the depths of the cave.

The hook rang out as it struck rock, and then caught on something. He gave it another tug, testing, and let it support his weight for a moment. He had to resist the urge to scramble up it, hand-over-hand, up until he could see the whole horizon laid out beneath him, with the crew on deck running to-and-fro like an orderly army of ants.

Ants with a wicked bite, he thought, letting go of the rope. He would be happy if he never set foot on another ship in his life.

He gave the rope a final tug and stepped out of the way. Anna was bouncing on her heels at the base of the cliff. "Your highness," he said, sketching a bow.

"Thanks!" she said. She grabbed his outstretched hand to boost herself onto the wall, and, before he could move, she replaced it with one snow-laden boot.

"Anna!" he hissed. When she stepped on his shoulder he was expecting it. He gave her a final push up the wall, scowling, and craned his neck to watch her climb. 

One couldn't help but admire the view from below, he thought. And Anna was a surprisingly capable climber, stretching her tiny frame across the rockface to find any cranny she could wedge her toes and fingers into. Someone had been giving her lessons. He wondered who. Certainly not her sister. Anna slipped, feet flailing on the rockface, and caught herself almost before he had finished flinching.

All this for a flower. He shook his head, watching her progress. She had reached her target, and he had to duck under a hail of ice and snow as she pulled herself into the mouth of the cave.

"Aha!" she said, voice echoing faintly down to his ears. Her head and shoulders appeared out of the mouth of the cave, preceded by another hail of snow and dirt, and he batted irritably at his shoulders. Snow slithered down the back of his coat.

"I've got the flowers," she said. "Can you belay me back down?"

"I _could_ ," he said. She gave him a dirty look and disappeared back into the cave.

"Hey, I'm paying you," she said, a few minutes later, as she tossed the grappling hook down to him. He sidestepped neatly, and it buried itself under a foot of snow. He glared up at her, but she was back in the cave. She hadn't even noticed. Of course she hadn't. He gave the hook a baleful look, and bent to free it from the snow.

 

Anna was halfway down the cliff when the rope ran out.

"How much snow would you say that is?" she asked, danging in midair.

"What?"

"Two feet? Three?"

"Why? Anna?" She had produced a knife from somewhere. He realized what she was planning roughly three seconds before she sawed through her end of the rope. It was only a five foot fall, but the snow was packed and icy and if she fell-

He hesitated, considering.

Anna hit him like a freight train, and he caught her reflexively before slamming into the ground back-first. The snow gave him almost no cushioning at all, and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out as waves of pain shot through his body. He couldn't breathe.

He should have let her fall. No question.

"Ow," Anna said. She rolled off of him, elbowing him in the side, and stood up carefully.

Hans stayed flat on his back, gasping for breath and contemplating murder.

"Oh," Anna said. "Are you okay? I hit you kinda hard there."

"I'm fine," Hans said. "Give me a minute."

He was going to rip her pretty little head off. No amount of money was worth _this_.


	3. Chapter 3

The hike back down the mountain was less eventful than the journey up: the only thing that disturbed them was a lone deer, bursting from the trees and racing across their meandering path. The sun had been high when they left the cave, and when they reached the base of the mountain the sun was kissing the horizon. 

There were four miles of road between them and the nearest inn, and they came a wordless agreement in the fading light: any company was better than walking alone along the road. A companion, especially one who was tall and very obviously armed, was a useful deterrent against the robbers who lurked in the woods. 

"That was a lot of work for a flower," Hans said quietly, as they walked down the road together. He listed to the side and brushed up against her, and she shuddered at the contact. He didn't seem to have noticed. 

"I didn't plan on it being so hard," Anna said. She shrugged, embarrassed, and flushed red when she bumped into his shoulder. She hoped he couldn't see her in the darkness. She was just so _tired_ \- she hefted her bag on her shoulders and put some distance between their bodies. He was still handsome, yes, and he still smelled fantastic, sure, but she was not going down that path again. He was a wonderful, strong, charming, treacherous _snake_. 

"By the way, Princess, how were you planning on paying me?" Hans asked, derailing her train of thought. 

Right. Payment. 

She only had enough money on her to see her to the next big town. Anna pulled off her glove and twisted the ring on her finger. It wasn't anything flashy, just a thin circle of gold topped with a garnet, but it would cover her debt. 

Kristoff had given it to her. She reminded herself firmly of his parting words to her, and blinked away the tears that rose unbidden in her eyes. 

_I'm sorry, Anna. We weren't-_ he had turned away from her, ruffling his hair, nervous - _Uh- good luck._

It was no one's fault. She understood that, intellectually, but somehow that made it even worse. They had just drifted apart, over two long years. 

_Good luck_. 

And now Anna was out, seeing the world, on her own. Her own woman. Quickly, she wrenched off the ring and held it out to Hans. 

"Here." 

Hans raised an eyebrow. "Still so eager, Anna? After everything that happened last time?" 

"Do you want to be paid?" Anna asked. He took the ring from her fingers and briefly examined it, holding it up in the faint light. 

"Thank you," he said. The ring disappeared into his jacket. Anna sighed and pulled her mitten back on. Her arms ached under the weight of her pack, and her legs screamed with every step on the icy, muddy road. 

_Good luck._ What kind of a goodbye was that, anyways? She reminded herself, fiercely, of how he had slurped his soup. 

"Hold on," Hans said, stopping suddenly. He held up a hand for quiet, and she heard what she had missed before- wheels creaking down the road behind them. Wheels meant a ride, and maybe a warm room before it got too cold. A smile spread across Anna's face and she couldn't help bouncing in place a little.

Sure enough, a wagon came over a rise a few minutes later, drawn by a pair of handsome draft horses. It was packed with hay, and there were passengers huddled among the bales, watching the mountains go by. Anna clapped, delighted at the prospect of a warm ride into the village. Hans put a quelling hand on her shoulder and waved at the driver. 

The wagon squeaked and squealed to an erratic halt in front of them, and the driver, face obscured by a mustache and beard as yellow as the hay he was hauling, peered at them suspiciously. 

"Sir!" Hans called, smiling. "My wife and I were wondering if we could pay for a ride." 

He sounded like a perfect gentleman. Anna slipped an arm through his, letting her exhaustion show on her face. 

The moustache twitched, and then the driver gestured with his hairy face towards the cart. 

"Thank you," Anna said, digging into her purse. Hans vaulted into the back of the cart as if he hadn't been on his feet for two days straight. Anna dropped a handful of coins into the driver's hand and then reached up for the side of the cart. Before she could get a foothold, familiar hands closed around her ribcage and lifted her into the air. Hans deposited her on the hay beside him. His hands lingered for a moment, and then the cart lurched into motion and he let go of her. 

The woman beside them cleared her throat pointedly. She had a sleeping child in her lap, and another one, whose seat Anna had apparently taken, was squished up against her side. Three chickens muttered softly at their feet, languishing in a wicker cage. 

Anna smiled at the child, and scanned the hay for another seat. Nothing. Every inch was taken by tired-looking farmers and their luggage and livestock. 

"Um," Anna said, and then Hans sighed and pulled her into his lap. 

"Oh. Okay," Anna said. 

He closed his arms around her waist, gently, and settled back against the hay. 

"Okay," Anna said, again. Hans didn't comment when she leaned back against his chest. He smelled of sweat, and lanolin, and faintly of smoke. His head tipped forward, jolted by movement of the cart, and one of his sideburns brushed her cheek. 

He began to snore. 

Anna sighed and settled in for the ride. 

It was kind of nice, actually. She was warm for the first time in two days, and it had been a long time since she'd been held in someone's arms. No one had to know if she... cuddled... a little, right? She nestled into the wool of Han's coat, enjoying the feeling of his broad chest underneath her. His legs were strong and sturdy beneath her own, and her feet rested just at the top of his boots. Hans sighed in his sleep and tightened his arms around her.

She put her arms on top of his, trying to ignore the sudden heaviness of her breasts and the burgeoning tightness in her belly. It was a natural reaction to being held by a man, she thought. It would have happened with anyone. The cart took a turn a little too quickly- she had a brief glimpse of their driver taking a swig of what she hoped was water- and then Han's leg slid between her own and her brain turned off for a moment. 

When she could think again, it was only of the thigh pressed between her legs, of the arm brushing along her breasts, of the stubble rubbing against her cheek. Lips brushed her earlobe and she had to stifle a gasp as pleasure shot through her body. The lips moved to her neck, and then curled in a smile. 

"Sorry," Hans said, against her skin. He shifted his grip, tugging her closer, she felt the hard line of his cock pressing against her thighs. She clamped her legs around his thigh and dug her fingers into his arm. 

"Don't be," Anna breathed. He smiled against her neck again, and then pulled away. Anna stifled a whine, and then stopped breathing completely when she felt his teeth on her skin. 

She was faintly aware that there were lights flickering in the distance. They couldn't be too far from the inn, she thought, desperate. 

"One mile," Hans said, softly. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, appearing for all the world to be asleep. A hand slipped under her cloak and toyed with her breast. Anna gritted her teeth. It was going to be a long mile.


	4. Chapter 4

They all but fell out of the cart when it stopped outside of Anna's inn. 

"Room for two, please," Anna said to the woman behind the bar. The woman eyed their hands suspiciously. Anna was suddenly grateful for her mittens. 

"We're very tired," she added. 

"Top of the stairs," the woman said, slapping a key down on the counter. "Ten argats, please." 

"Ten-" Anna said, "that's-" 

"Fine," Hans finished. He counted the coins out briskly, piling them up on the battered wood of the bar, and took the key. 

"We do need our sleep," he said, smiling brightly at the innkeeper. He took Anna by the arm and pulled her up the stairs. 

"Come on," she said, pressing up against his side while he struggled with the key. She ran a hand up his chest, and he hissed a long breath out between his teeth. Living rough hadn't done any harm to his physique.

The door finally opened, and they tumbled into the room. Anna shucked her cloak off, letting it drop onto the ground, and pulled him down for a kiss. 

"Just this," she said, when they pulled apart.

His smile was devastating. She shoved his coat off of his shoulders, leaning in for another kiss, and squeaked when Hans crowded her back against the door. 

"Just this," he said. He pushed her trousers down over her hips, letting them pool around her boots, and dropped to his knees in front of her. 

"Off," he grunted, tugging at her ankles. She watched, dazed, as he pulled her boots off. When her bare feet touched the ground, she buried a hand in his hair and pressed his face against her thigh. He chuckled, sideburns tickling her sensitive skin, and then turned his attention to her folds. Anna groaned and bucked her hips, unable to control herself. 

When he slid a finger between her lips, she thumped her head back against the door, heedless of the noise. "H- Hans-" she gasped. He found his target and she pulled sharply on his hair. 

"Hans-" She squeaked when his tongue brushed over her clit. He looked up at her from between her legs, pupils blown wide, and then went back to his work. A long finger slid inside of her, and she gasped. He gave her one last long lick and then started to stand. She grabbed his scarred wrist, keeping his hand between her legs, and he gave her a wet smile. He braced himself on the door with his free hand, letting her fuck the fingers of his other hand, and leaned in for a kiss. 

"We did buy a bed," Hans said, lips pressed against her forehead. She shook her head and let go of his wrist to reach for his breeches. Between them they managed to undo his belt and his buttons, and he groaned when she pulled his erection free. 

Hans shoved her back against the door again and cupped his hands under her buttocks to lift her up. Anna went eagerly, bare legs wrapped around his hips, and sighed when he slid inside of her. He buried his face in her cleavage for a moment, dampening her shirt, and then he pushed up with his hips, drawing another moan from her. 

He hitched her up a little further, and then he started fucking her in earnest. Anna, braced against the door, with her arms wrapped around his neck and her hands clawing at his back, allowed herself one hazy moment of regret that she hadn't married him, and then she was borne away on a wave of pleasure as she came. 

She rested her chin on his head, gasping, as he finished rutting into her. Hans came almost silently, shuddering against her with a breathy gasp. 

"That was- that was good," Anna said. Hans pulled out away from her and let her sag against the door. 

"I haven't done that in a long time," Anna said. Hans smiled at her as he adjusted his clothes. 

"I had to admit I wondered," he said. "But I didn't think you'd give me your virginity."

She groped for her pants, and pulled them. They stank of sex and travel, and she wrinkled her nose. 

"I need a bath," she said. 

"Tomorrow," Hans said. "The staff wouldn't appreciate it right now. But I think we could both do with a drink."

She sank down to sit cross-legged by the door, enjoying the lingering ache between her legs. 

"You do that," she said.

Hans came back laden with a pitcher of red wine, half a loaf of bread, and two cups. Anna was sitting on the bed. 

"To us," he said, pouring a generous measure. 

"To us," she echoed. "May it never happen again." 

"Drink up," Hans said. "And then we'll sleep,"

The wine was unwatered and bitter, but she drank it anyways. Hans watched her, smiling fondly. She felt like she was eighteen again, striving to impress a handsome prince. 

Exhaustion hit like a sledgehammer after her second cup of wine, and she flopped onto the bed. Hans drained his glass and settled down beside her, letting her use him as a pillow.

Just once. Just for now. Come tomorrow, she'd never see him again. Anna, hazy and drunk and exhausted, dropped into sleep like a stone into a crevasse. 

 

 

When she woke up, Hans was gone. 

Anna had expected nothing less, but it was still disappointing. And a relief, she supposed. She never should have slept with him in the first place. 

Her cloak was slung over the one chair in the room, and everything had been put away. She wondered if it had been Hans or a maid. She stretched her sore muscles, smiling to herself. She had certainly had an adventure. She didn't have to tell Elsa _all_ the details. 

She would write to Elsa after her bath. Hopefully Elsa would like the Moonflower. But first, breakfast. 

She had a comb in her bag, nestled at the bottom next to her writing supplies and the Moonflower, which she had carefully wrapped in a handkerchief. The comb, when she opened her bag, was where she had left it. 

The Moonflower was not. She frowned. 

She dug into the bag a little further, hoping against hope that the flower had been misplaced. There was no sign of it. 

No one but Hans could have taken it. Her stomach sank. Grabbing her cloak, she wrapped herself up and hurried down the stairs. 

"Sir!" she said. There was a man behind the bar, now. He raised one eyebrow at her hair, but didn't comment on her state of undress. 

"Did a young man leave this morning?" she asked, half dreading his answer. 

"Aye, one did at that," the bartender said. "He was in an awful hurry. You know him?"

"Yeah," Anna said, frowning. "He took a Moonflower from me. I don't know why he would steal that. I mean, what is he going to do with a flower?"

The bartender nodded. "That'll be the Princess," he said. 

_Princess_? "Excuse me?" Anna said. 

"Aye, the Princess Moira. She's one of them doesn't want to wed, so she set tasks for her suitors. Kill a griffin, race the wind, find a Moonflower. Yon mountain's been crawling with young men. I figured he was one of them. Didn't know he was with someone."

"Princess Moira," Anna said. Her stomach clenched. 

"Aye. Lovely as they come. She's up in the castle up there."

Of course. 

Of _course_ it would be a Princess. And a throne. And, if she didn't hurry, a murder.


End file.
